The drive master leaped from the door of the car and his men scrambled past him to enter. "About that dynamite----" Latisan elbowed aside the questioning sheriff, and looked straight past the officer. "If you go after me on that point you'll have to go after Craig and the Three C's, too--and I'll put the thing up to the county attorney myself. Right now I'm busy." The men were lugging out the boxes. "If anybody gets in your way, boys, drop a box on his toes," he shouted, starting up the platform. "Leave it to us, Mr. Latisan," bawled one of the crew. The drive master had his eyes on the girl who was walking ahead of him. He could hardly believe that the voicing of his name attracted her attention. She did not know his name! But she stopped and whirled about and stared at him. It was surely the girl of the cafeteria! She plainly shared Latisan's amazement, but there was in her demeanor something more than the frank astonishment which was actuating him. He pulled off his cap and hurried to her and put out his hand. "I saw you--I mean I saw your hat. I thought it might be you--but I looked for you in New York--for that hat----" He knew he was making a fool of himself by his excitement and incoherence. "I have been thinking about you----" He was able to check himself, for her eyes were showing surprise of another sort. Her manner suggested to Latisan that she, at any rate, had not been thinking especially about him during the months. She had recovered her composure. "It is not surprising about the hat, Mr.--I believe I heard somebody call your name--Mr. Latisan?" There was an inflection of polite query, and he bowed. "My sarcastic friends are very explicit about this hat serving as my identifier." "I didn't mean it that way. I don't know anything about girls' hats. But to see you away up here----" She forced a flicker of a smile. "It seems quite natural to find you here in the woods, though I believe you did tell me that your home is over Tomah way." He was not able to understand the strange expression on her countenance. And she, on her part, was not able to look at him with complete composure; she remembered the character given to this man by Craig, and she had ventured to give him something else in her report--the swagger of a _roue_ and a black mustache! There was an awkward moment and he put his cap back on his head. He looked about as if wondering if she expected friends. He had treasured every word of hers in the cafeteria. She had spoken of the woods as if her home had been there at one time. "I'm not expecting anybody to meet me--here--to-day," she informed him, understanding his side glances. She was showing incertitude, uneasiness--as if she were slipping back into a former mood after the prick of her surprise. "There's a hotel here, I suppose."